if he should trust her. He moved his palm slightly.
She could have screamed. But he could still shoot her before help arrived. And then he could shoot whoever might have been chivalrous enough to help her. So she spoke quietly instead. “Who do you think I am?”
His mouth curved into a slight smile. “You’re Claire Molenski.”
Her pulse quickened before she reminded herself that she had given him her first name. And he’d had time while she was unconscious to go through her purse and find her license. Oh, God, if he had seen her license, he also knew where she lived. He could have taken her keys, too, for her car and her house.
But why?
“Who are you?” she asked.
During their speed dating round, he had only given her his first name but that might have been as made up as his other wild stories.
“Ash,” he said. “Special Agent Ash Stryker.”
That name definitely sounded made up to her. But then he tugged on the chain that disappeared beneath the neck of his black sweater and pulled out a big shield. She had seen enough of those the past several years that she realized the shield was real.
And so was Special Agent Ash Stryker.
Dread overwhelmed her and she groaned. “No...”
Triumph flashed in his light blue eyes. “You didn’t think we would trace the online auction back to you?”
“Online auction?” He might have been telling the truth about who he was and what had happened, but none of it made any sense to her. All she understood was that somehow her life was turning upside down—again. And she didn’t know how to turn it right side up. “What do you think I’m selling?”
He just stared at her, obviously convinced that she knew, so that he wasn’t even going to bother to answer.
Annoyance flashed through her. She had been too young before to fight for herself. She wasn’t going to go down this time without a fight.
“Do you think I’m selling my body?” she asked.
His lips quirked again, as if he was tempted to grin. “That might explain the speed dating and the hotel room...”
He flicked his gaze down her short, tight dress, as if he were actually considering buying. And heat flashed through her now, making her skin tingle with excitement. But then she reminded herself that he was an FBI agent, and a cold chill chased away the heat.
“But an FBI agent,” she said, “especially an FBI special agent wouldn’t waste his time investigating something that a vice cop would handle.”
He arched a dark brow and asked, “Do you know much about Vice?”
“No.” She sighed. “But I do know about the Federal Bureau of Investigations.”
He didn’t ask why; he would have read her file. The FBI probably had a volume on her by now.
“So, Special Agent Ash Stryker,” she addressed him. “How are you going to ruin my life this time?”
The woman was trouble. Ash had known that before he’d even met her. But she was even more dangerous in person than he had expected her to be.
Because he hadn’t expected his reaction to her—his very physical, very male reaction to her beauty. Her skin was porcelain—all pale and smooth—and too much of it showed beneath the short skirt of her tight red dress. Damn, she was sexy. She knew it, too, and was using it to her advantage with that flirtatious comment about selling her body.
Hell, if she was really selling, he might have been tempted to make an offer. She was that beautiful. But she was also that treacherous.
“I have never met you before,” he reminded her. “So I have had no part in ruining your life.”
Was that why she had betrayed her country? Out of spite over her arrest years ago?
“You’re such a suit,” she uttered the slang word for FBI agent with total disdain. “Even without the suit, I should have realized you were an FBI agent. I knew something wasn’t right with you.”
Her remark had his pride stinging. He was good at going undercover. Nobody else had ever suspected he wasn’t who he was pretending to be—even when he’d gone deep undercover with motorcycle gangs and militia groups. But maybe he had been more out of his element speed dating than he had ever been anywhere else.
“Actually, everything’s right with me,” he said. “You’re the one in the wrong.”
She shook her head, and her silky blond hair skimmed across her shoulders, which were bare but for thin red spaghetti straps. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I believe that’s what you said last time—”
“It was true last time, too,” she insisted.
“You hacked into a bank,” he reminded her since she seemed to have forgotten what she’d done. “And cleaned out someone’s account.”
She defensively crossed her arms over her chest. “I had my reasons.”
“Do you have reasons this time, too?” he asked. “Because the only one I can think of is greed.”
“You thought that was my reason last time, too,” she murmured with even more disdain—as if she thought him an idiot. “But I didn’t keep that money. I gave it all away to charity.”
“It wasn’t your money to give,” he pointed out. “And I didn’t have anything to do with your last arrest.” He hadn’t even been an agent then. He had probably still been a marine at that time. The Bureau had recruited him out of the service to become an agent. He had been surprised that either of them—the marines or the Bureau—had wanted him, given his background.
She sucked in a sharp breath, and her eyes widened with fear again. When she’d regained consciousness, she had seemed genuinely afraid. Despite what she’d started with her online activity, she obviously hadn’t expected that she’d put herself in danger.
“Last arrest?” she repeated his words. “Is there going to be another arrest?”
Not unless he could find some more concrete evidence against her. It wasn’t enough that knowledge only she possessed had been offered for sale. She was smart enough now that the online auction couldn’t be traced directly back to her...except for that knowledge. He would have only been able to arrest her if he could have caught her in the act of selling the information. That was why he had come to the speed dating event, to pose as a buyer.
But somehow he must have spooked her before he had even been able to put in his bid. Then having to rescue her in the parking lot had completely blown his cover. Now it would be harder to find evidence against her. Now that she knew the FBI was on to her she was going to be even more careful. But maybe he could convince her to confess—if he could bluff enough that she thought the Bureau already had enough evidence for an arrest.
“You tell me if I should take you into custody,” he suggested. “Have you already sold it?”
“Sold what?” she asked, acting as confused as she had when he had mentioned her online auction earlier.
Claire Molenski was as good an actress as she was a hacker because he was almost starting to buy her act. But only almost. From going undercover himself, he knew how easy it was to assume a role. He usually had to assume one of guilt because he was acting like a criminal. She was assuming one of innocence because she was acting like a victim. As if she had been unjustly persecuted before and now.
But it was just an act. Just an act...
Someone’s